Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Assuming I survived this convoluted kidnapping-extortion-blackmail plan of revenge or whatever this was, I would be coming back for this bottle and demanding, through lawyers, of course, to know where he got it. Or maybe I would just tell Luc to steal it when he and the thugs our father worked with came to settle a few scores.
Feeling almost human, I walked out of the bedroom and followed the intoxicating aroma of arabica beans and happiness.
Marksen was sitting at the breakfast table, a plate of pancakes half-eaten next to him.
They had far too much butter and were dripping in syrup.
They looked fantastic.
He looked so peaceful, sitting at the table like he was any other man on any other morning.
Like nothing from last night happened, not the good or the bad, the sweet or the cruel.
Except for the scratch marks from my claws peeking out from the top of his collar.
I let my hair cascade forward over my face to hide my satisfied smirk. At least I had gotten a little of my own back. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for my pride to cling to. Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself of my purpose.
Survive and then thrive.
I would get through this and move on, but first I had to get through this. And to do that, I had to play nice. I had to be his good girl. Casting a side glance at his relaxed form, I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what.
Finishing school never covered this. Business school did, but I didn’t know how to translate the language of leaked financial files, poaching of top talent, or scandalous op-eds in the Wall Street Journal to matters of the heart.
Did I leak photos of him naked?
He was a man who looked even better out of a suit than in one.
Did I steal his next conquest?
How would that even work?
Any scandalous op-eds would drag me down further, and being a woman, I would never recover. He would be as good as new in a month.
No, I just had to deal with it and take this torment until it ended. Then I would work on mitigating the damage and healing.
Next to the plate of heavenly carbs was his laptop.
Marksen didn’t say anything.
He just motioned for me to sit opposite him, so I did.
He turned the laptop around.
The screen showed the very familiar pink and gold heading of my website.
For a moment, I thought maybe he was offering an olive branch after the despicable thing he had done last night, but the article was … wrong.
The picture was of me at the party last night at a moment when everyone was still mostly dressed. Although I hadn’t noticed any flashes, the photo must have been taken right when we got there. My hair wasn’t disheveled, my makeup wasn’t smudged, and my dress hadn’t been ripped off yet.
It looked like any other fantastic party.
Marksen got up and took his plate into the kitchen while I looked at the article that had me listed as the author.
I hated taking credit for work I didn’t do. The article itself was well-written, with a few cheeky innuendos that would make anyone who had attended Theophane laugh, but those not in the know would just gloss over.
It was surprisingly well done and strikingly similar to what I would have written if I had covered it. Had I shown up on my own to write a story on it as I’d planned, I didn’t know what would have happened. I would like to say I would have stayed, enjoyed the spectacle, and written some amazing piece like this article, something witty and clever. In actuality, I would have run and pretended the entire thing had never happened.
“How?” I asked.
“How what?” Marksen asked, setting a fresh cup of coffee and a plate of pancakes in front of me. I took a bite of the buttery goodness to appease my growling stomach. This was just what I needed.
“How did you get access to post this? And who wrote it?”
“Money will get you access to most things, though you should vet your people better. Their asking price was far too low, not even in the six figures.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue in disapproval as he retook his seat. “As for the article, I hired a ghostwriter. I think she did a good job, though I admit I prefer the other version.”
“Other version?” I asked, dropping my fork and ignoring the syrup that dripped onto the glass tabletop.
Marksen reached over and hit a button on the keyboard, and the screen switched.
It still looked like my website, but the photo was of me naked on the dais. The side view showed a fully dressed Marksen behind me.
It was clear we were fucking.
There was another, smaller image in the corner that showed my face just as Marksen dropped my mask.